


feel like i do

by midnightweeds



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: If anyone asks, he’ll blame it on Hinata serving a ball to the back of his head, but the truth of it is that your smile hadn’t been directed at him, but he absolutely needed it to be. Needs it to be. He’s never believed in red strings or soulmates because 1) it’s unrealistic and 2) there are nearly eight billion people in the world; but, things change. He’s reasonable enough to accept that. He’s willing enough to, too.pocuties server collab
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 106





	feel like i do

**Author's Note:**

> first meeting + a little domestic fluff

_August 2018_

He isn’t sure what possesses him to do it. The last thing he wants to do on any given day is to touch someone else’s personal items. But, he’d all but froze when he turned away from the counter and saw you sitting by the window.

In truth, you’re hard to miss. Foreigners aren’t uncommon in this part of Japan, but your dress is bright against the dreary morning and the long, dark curls you repeatedly push away from your face as you lean over your laptop.

The smile you offer the staffer that brings you a to-go cup embeds itself in his mind. It glosses over every little thing that annoyed him during practice this morning, filling him with a terribly unfamiliar feeling that turns to loss when you quickly get up, shove your laptop into your bag, and hurry out of the smoothie shop in what feels like a single breath. You didn’t even glance in his direction and he feels slighted in a way he hasn’t before.

But, he shakes the feeling, grabbing his drink from the counter. Despite himself, he casts one more look at the seat you’d occupied and realizes that you left something on the table. He blindly makes his way over to the table to see that you’d left a barrette of all things- and it’s only after he’s left that store, casting looking in both directions, that he realizes he’s jogging down the street to give you the stupid thing back.

If anyone asks, he’ll blame it on Hinata serving a ball to the back of his head, but the truth of it is that your smile hadn’t been directed at him, but he absolutely needed it to be. Needs it to be. He’s never believed in red strings or soulmates because 1) it’s unrealistic and 2) there are nearly eight billion people in the world; but, things change. He’s reasonable enough to accept that. He’s _willing_ enough to, too.

You say something in another language, gratefulness in your tone, and offer him a smile more beautiful than the one that led him to you. And he so foolishly gets lost in your eyes, enjoying the feeling of life deciding to hit the shit out of him at 9am on a _Tuesday_. It’s awful and terrible and embarrassing but he finds himself wanting to sink into the feeling. 

He realizes you’re talking to him, this time in Japanese, only after you’re done speaking, waiting for his reply. He opens his mouth to ask you to say it again but instead, he blurts out, “Do I know you?”

You’re surprised for a moment before laughing and he decides he’s done for. Absolutely done for.

“You know,” you say, your accent the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. It leaves his stomach feeling as though he’s eaten nothing but air for days. “I don’t think so, but I was wondering the same because it...it feels like I do. Know you already, I mean. Do you think…”

You hold up your hand, offering your bare pinky to him. Patience shines in your eyes when he hesitates and he reminds himself that he’s very quickly accepted the fact that he’s done for as he lifts his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. Your eyes never leave his and it’s blind faith, really, that pushes him into you and pulls his mask from his face.

Not that he even knows what blind faith is. It’s fate, really. Sweet and wretched fate because there are eight million people in the world and that ball the head must have been the catalyst, the perfect excuse to believe in something so baseless because suddenly he’s kissing a foreigner in the street.

He wants to say he feels his skin crawling and his blood curdling but it’d be a lie. 

“The last place I expected to find you is here,” you say.

Your finger tightens around his, pulling your hands up for the both of you to see the thin red bands you both have tattooed on the first knuckles of your pinky, like a promise he’s already committed to keeping.

“I hadn’t considered that you even existed,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heat when you laugh.

“Is it ok?”

“Yes.”

You swallow, looking away for the first time, and it’s more endearing than he’d like it to be when you quietly ask, “Would you like to come over?” 

“More than anything.”

.

_._

_Present Day_

The sun’s settling when Sakusa wakes up, his half drawn curtains allowing gold light to bathe his room. He stretches sleepily, his hand passing over the side of his bed he’s come to call _yours_ to find it cool before he gets up, making quick work of stripping the bed and tossing the sheets in the wash.

The en suite is still warm when he enters it, damp air saturated with the soft scent of your hair and skin products, and it fills him with a sick sort of pleasure to breathe it in, his body heating in response.

He distracts himself with a cool shower, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and indulging in one of your detanglers once he gets out. As he leaves the bathroom to redress the bed in clean linen, he finger-combs his curls into a scrunchie to keep it from picking up the scent of whatever you’re cooking.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs when he enters the kitchen, his arms circling your shoulders as he fits himself into your back and watches while you finish up dinner. “What are we listening to?”

“Ah, it’s Vin Diesel’s new song.”

“It’s awful.”

“You mean relatable.”

“I don’t understand anything he’s saying, so no.”

You laugh as you turn off the burner and he takes a step back, looking you over as he gives you some space. “What’s it about?”

“Pretty much just unexpectedly meeting someone and feeling like you know them.”

He smirks as he watches you grab bowls from the cabinet, pulling up the sweatpants you have rolled up on your hips when you set them on the counter. _His_ sweatpants. You’re wearing one of his shirts, too, his family name boldly across your shoulders. It’d taken him forever to get you to wear one of his team shirts, and he’d all but lost it when he realized you were wearing one during his first game with the National Team, but it still leaves him a little fuzzy brained to see it. Even if he’s more than ready to make it yours, too.

“So, what? He thinks he’s special because he has a soulmate?”

You look over your shoulder to roll your eyes before dishing up the chow mein. “Grab the chopsticks, Omi.”

He does as told as he says, “I thought we were having curry.”

“Used the last of it the other day.”

He groans dejectedly, resisting the urge to smirk when your eyes cut in his direction. “I forgot,” he tells you cooly, leaving the chopsticks on the dining room table as he makes his way over to the entryway to find the bag Barnes had given him during practice.

“Don’t worry. My mom sent some so it should come soon. I’ll find something if it doesn’t.”

“Bleh,” he says as he rejoins you in the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter.

“So annoying,” you comment as he snickers, washing his hands and one of the packets in the sink. “Dunno how you went from thinking it’s disgusting to wanting it twice a week.”

“You got better at making it.”

“You’re so annoying! I’m putting you out,” you tell him, leaving him drying his hands as you make your way to the table.

“Of my own place?” He asks, clinking on the kettle before pouring two glasses of water and making his way to the table.

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but nothing is _yours_ anymore, baby.”

He smirks, watching you pick up your chopsticks as he rests his chin in his hand. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm,” you say around a mouthful of noodles.

“What about you, y/N? Are you mine?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“What about my name? Is that mine?”

“Maybe that's the only thing. Sometimes I borrow it, though. Like right now,” you explain, tugging at your shirt.

“You can have that, too. If you want it.” He watches your eyes widen in surprise before you point your utensils at him suspiciously. “You should move in with me first, though.”

“Ok.”

He can’t help the grin that spreads on his face, enjoying the way your face softens as your eyes follow his lips. “What makes this different from any other time I’ve asked?”

“It was kinda smooth.”

He shakes his head, watching as you take a few more bites.

“It’s cool enough for you to eat,” you tell him, focusing on your food now.

He slides the packet across the table, watching as your eyes widen in surprise.

“What!” You pick it up, turning it over in your hands as though you can’t believe it’s real. “Chiefs? Chiefs? I don’t...where did you find real curry?”

Sakusa laughs, taking a bite of his food and savoring the taste. He’d only been joking when he’d told you you’d gotten better at making it. Despite being a picky eater, one of the favorite times of his day is sitting down to eat with you, especially when you cook. “I asked Barnes to bring it when he came back to Japan.”

“ _You_ ? Asked someone for a _favor_?” You ask, pulling the packet to your face to smell it, a little sigh escaping you. 

Between bites, he says, “Don’t say I never did anything for you...There’s a whole bag in there.”

“Thank you, Omiii."

“Yeah, yeah. He expects to be invited over for dinner, though. Your place.”

“But this is my place now?”

“I’m not above taking it all back.”

You laugh, your smile causing his heart to skip a beat. To distract himself, he says, “Curry salmon for dinner tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

“Your place. I’ll tell Barnes.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you know? I’ve been here for two years and I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallows whatever sappy thing is threatening to escape his threat and instead offers you his pinky. The same as he always does when he has too much to say and not enough nerve to get it out. You don't hesitate to offer him yours.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

“I love you, too, y/N.”

**Author's Note:**

> for the POCuties server playlist collab. [check out the masterlist here](https://beeslug.tumblr.com/post/631882775939710976/banner-by-grandtorina-the-pocuties-sfw)
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> x, weeds


End file.
